Jake:Book 4 (The Justice Brothers Series)

by Taylor Lee

  He chuckled. “May I presume that I always have the opportunity to achieve that designation if I’m not careful? Although, Chief, you gotta know that you’re a tad prickly and tend to overreact.”

  Sam laughed. “Prickly, I’ll admit to. Temper tantrums, I won’t.”

  “Hmm, I’d be lying if I said those almost-temper tantrums aren’t intriguing. At least in terms of how I might deal with them.” At her audible gasp then silence at what he realized was a more provocative response than he’d intended, Jake changed the subject to what he hoped was neutral ground for them. “I’m glad you and your deputies came today, Chief. I hope you found it useful.”

  “Actually, I did. And thank you for inviting me to lunch. I admit I was nervous but surprisingly, I enjoyed it.”

  “Hey, I’m not surprised if you were uneasy. I’ve been told that one or two Justice brothers can be intimidating and that three is damn daunting. But you were a hit with my brothers. And of course Hailey and Skylar were glad to have another woman at the table to even the gender equation.”

  Knowing that he needed to raise the issue that was gnawing at his gut, Jake added, “By the way, I understand that your visit to the DPD wasn’t well received by all your members.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  Hearing the suspicion in Sam’s voice, Jake said smoothly, “Hailey and Sky mentioned that Mingan Yazzie wasn’t happy that they drove you back to the rez.”

  “It was nothing. Certainly nothing that you need to be concerned about or that I can’t handle.”

  The edge in her sharp rejoinder confirmed he was treading on her territory, apparently a continuing lightening rod. Jake was concerned enough that he didn’t hold back. “Unfortunately, Sam, I know Yazzie. We go way back. As I’m sure you noticed the other night, there’s more than a little bad blood between us. I will simply say he’s not a guy to trifle with.”

  “Hmm, that’s what I told him about you.”

  Jake chuckled. “Really? Glad to know I have a defender.” When she didn’t respond, Jake decided that he’d let the Yazzie issue go for the moment. He surprised himself with his next question. “Tell me, Chief, would you think I’m forward if I invited you to a party that we’re having?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “My grandfather is an incorrigible social animal. To him, every day is a day to celebrate, but a couple times a year he goes all out. One of those occasions, his annual Summer Solstice bash, is coming up. At least according to Hailey and Skylar, it’s a great party. Seems like the whole damned DPD goes.” When she didn’t answer, Jake filled the silence. “I know it’s a couple weeks away, but it would be an opportunity to introduce you to the broader community. You don’t have to answer now, but I hope you’ll give it some thought.”

  At her continued silence, Jake went back to their meeting. “I told Brian Reynolds to include you on the distribution list for the information he presented today. It’s important that you’re aware of the seriousness of the issues we are facing. The distribution list confirms the level of the players involved and how critical law enforcement agencies up the chain consider the issue.”

  “Thanks, Jake. I appreciate it. Even though I thought Special Agent Reynolds was an arrogant prick, I was impressed with his evidence. Can I share the data with my counterparts in other tribes? If Reynolds is correct, we aren’t the only tribe potentially affected.”

  “Not yet, Sam. For now, you, Mark, and Henry are the only tribal police who have seen the highly classified data. It’s strictly on a need-to-know basis.”

  Sam hesitated, then said, “I really haven’t thanked you for inviting me today. Sorry if I seemed a little testy. I let Agent Reynolds get to me—”

  Jake interrupted. “No need to explain. We all agree that Reynolds is an arrogant prick, but the guy is as knowledgeable as they come. You just have to get by him and concentrate on what he brings to the table.”

  “Can I assume he wasn’t the one who suggested I be included in the meeting?”

  Jake chuckled at Sam’s obvious irony. “That’s a safe assumption, Chief Delgado. Just know that you were invited because the person in charge thinks you’re critical to the discussion.”

  ****

  Sam headed for the gym as she often did when she was stressed, which she had to admit was most of the time. Beating the stuffing out of a leather bag had been her go-to de-stressor since she was a young girl. She’d long ago concluded that meditation, deep breathing, or any of the healing arts were beyond her. No, warrior arts from hardcore MMA tactics to more esoteric and deadly practices like the Philippines-based Escrima caught her fancy. But for the last two years, as an admirer of the Mossad, she’d become addicted to Krav Maga, the self-defense system developed for the Israeli Defense Forces. What had attracted her to the violent practice was its focus on real life situations and its extremely efficient brutal counter attack. Krav Maga practitioners learned to counter attack as quickly and viciously as possible. Unlike other martial arts, Krav Maga aimed for the most vulnerable parts of the body. In real-life fighting situations their goal was to permanently injure or kill the opponent. Preparing her body for the challenging practice, Sam thought it would be interesting if she fought for the tribe and unsheathed her Krav Maga skills at the next “demonstration” with the DPD. A satisfied grin quirked her lips as she wondered how the accomplished and admittedly arrogant commander would react. It would be interesting, to say the least.

  After an exhausting two-hour session, Sam admitted that not even the body-beating practice could quiet her spirit. A pounding, hot shower assured that while her muscles were worn out and mercifully numb, her mind was far from quiet. Relying on her second best de-stressor, Sam grabbed a bottle of Jameson and went out to sit on her deck. Reveling in the cool night air, she tried to focus on the silent beauty surrounding her. The silky dark night sky was strewn with myriad stars. Not to be outdone by her more distant sisters, the moon played peek-a-boo with errant clouds determined to dampen the golden sphere’s glow. But as each cloud slid by, the moon prevailed, its gleaming light refusing to be hid.

  Sam leaned back in her chair, willing the soul-caressing beauty of the night combined with the numbing power of Jameson to bring her peace. She finally gave in, acknowledging that calm, let alone peace, was not an option. Not with the kind of day that she’d had. It wasn’t hard to identify the source of her disquiet. It had been a week since she’d met the man she admitted had turned her life upside-down. Today was just the culmination of a week of unsettling spirit-challenging experiences. This morning she had done something she’d never thought she would. She’d joined other law enforcement agents working on an issue that was affecting her reservation. Granted, she had been far from collaborative, but she had agreed to attend when Jake invited her. She now admitted it was a very good thing that she had. She’d learned to her dismay that her reservation was under threat. A threat she’d been unaware of.

  She’d also had lunch with a commanding group of people. They’d welcomed her to their elite group as though she was one of them, not the prickly reservation police chief who found it hard to be courteous to Anglos, particularly other cops. Returning to the reservation, her experience put the disquieting morning and lunch in sharp relief. It was bad enough that Mingan had accosted her. That his attack had been seen by members of the tribe, including her protective deputies, made it worse. That it had been reported to the DPD commander made it even more challenging. Until she’d met Jake, law enforcement issues on the reservation were no one’s business but hers. What happened on the reservation, good and bad, was hers to manage. She was, after all, the tribal police chief. And, dammit, that was the way she wanted it to be. But both Mingan and Jake were making that impossible. Mingan by insisting that she was a traitor to their cause, and Jake by making it clear that if it involved her, it involved him.

  Even though she was determined not to accede to his commanding presence, Sam couldn’t stop thinking about their telephone con
versation and the multiple ways Jake was inserting himself into her business and her life. First, he’d warned her about Mingan, making it clear he was concerned about her safety. Then, by including her in the distribution of classified information, he’d confirmed that he respected her as a professional. But it was the invitation to his grandfather’s party that had her gut churning like a high-speed blender. After analyzing his proposal from every angle, Sam conceded there was no way to look at it other than Commander Jake Justice had invited her to go out with him. To a visible, high-level event, no less.

  Even though it was after midnight, Sam reminded herself that Jake had sent her a text at three o’clock in the morning. As though her fingers had a mind of their own, she reached for her cell phone and tapped out the message. I might consider attending your grandfather’s party… Before she could stop them, her renegade digits hit send. Within seconds, her text message was on its way to the targeted recipient. Confirming that she wasn’t the only one unable to sleep, almost instantly her phone buzzed. When she read his response she couldn’t decide if she should be annoyed at his arrogance or amused by his audacity.

  You’re on, Chief Delgado. PS, did you really think that I would take no for an answer?

  At the sensations heating her cheeks and sending sparks to her nether regions, Sam opted for amusement. She admitted that annoyed was the last thing she felt.

  Chapter 11

  For the next three days, Sam poured herself into the methamphetamine crisis, reading everything she could get her hands on. The more she read, the more she appreciated Special Agent Reynolds’s information. The DEA agent’s data was light-years ahead of what was available online and even in law enforcement journals. What made it more compelling was that it was the only place she saw evidence that the international cartels were making a move on the Indian reservations. Conscious of Jake’s admonition that she not share the classified information he’d given her, she still wanted to talk with her tribal police brethren. She decided to approach the police chiefs on the Southwestern reservations that according to Reynolds’s information were most likely dealing with the cartels. Fortunately, the police chief of the largest reservation in New Mexico had been one of her instructors at the Colorado State University where she had received her Global Master’s degree in Criminal Justice Law Enforcement.

  “Jesus, Samantha, I couldn’t believe it when my desk sergeant gave me your message. How the hell are you? According to my message, none other than the chief of police of the Crow Lake Reservation in northern Minnesota wanted to talk to me. Holy shit, congratulations! I’d heard the news and wasn’t surprised. You were my star pupil. Not that you were easy to deal with. Uh-uh. If ever there was a rabble rouser, it was Samantha Delgado.”

  Sam laughed. “I was a bit of a brat, wasn’t I, Professor Thompson?”

  “Yes, you were, Sam, but in a good way. You always pushed the boundaries, insisting that your professors explain the unexplainable. Specifically how the reservation law enforcement entities have become emasculated compared to the majority law enforcement departments. You asked questions that most of us profs had a hard time answering. Which is exactly what top students do. They force their professors to dig deep and don’t accept the crap even the good professors spout.”

  Sam laughed. “Thank you, Professor Thompson. I never felt that you spouted crap, but most of my other professors sure did!”

  “First off, Sam, it’s Chief Thompson. I’m not teaching anymore. But please call me John. Back to my original question, how are you? And, like I said, while I’m not at all surprised that you’re one of two female tribal police chiefs in the country, I want to hear how you like the job. Is it what you expected? And are you making as many waves there as you did in college?”

  Sam didn’t squelch her sigh. “Let me put it this way, Professor…John. While I’m primarily dealing with the issues I expected, the job itself is different than I imagined. In particular, relationships with non-Native agencies are a lot more complicated than I expected. I admit I came here prepared to run my own ship without interference from outside entities. I’m discovering that is hard to do. I’m being challenged to cooperate with other local and national agencies to solve cross-agency issues. But as you know, I’m not known as a collaborative woman.”

  John Thompson laughed, then spoke seriously. “I hear you, Sam. Like I said, you’re one feisty woman with a mission on her mind. For better or worse, the field gets a lot less black and white when you’re the one working in it. Particularly when you’re the one in charge.”

  Sam groaned. “That’s what I’m discovering.”

  “Wait a minute, did you say that you’re on the Crow Lake rez? Isn’t that next to Duluth, the Port City? If so, you have the privilege of working with one of the finest police departments in the country and without a doubt one of the top five police chiefs, Jake Justice.” He whistled appreciatively. “I’ve known him for years. He and his brothers are known across the law enforcement arena. As for Jake, you won’t find a better cop, or frankly, a better man.”

  Sam sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to breathe normally. Of course her nationally known professor would know Jake. Why wouldn’t he? She’d hoped that she could talk confidentially with Chief Thompson about the methamphetamine threat, but she’d have to be careful. If per chance Chief Thompson called Jake to congratulate him on getting the “feisty woman on a mission” as his colleague, she didn’t want Jake to think that she’d gone behind his back. After she’d agreed that yes, Commander Justice was an impressive leader, she pressed Thompson on a number of issues.

  “One of the biggest issues we’re facing here, John, is the growing methamphetamine crisis.”

  Thompson agreed. “Tell me about it, Sam. Dammit all, in the last couple of years, meth has become the issue bedeviling the reservations. God Almighty, we thought alcohol and prostitution hit the Native population hard, and it did. But, meth? I’m telling you, it’s like when tuberculosis wiped out whole reservations in the thirties and forties. Crank, crystal, ice, whatever you want to call that fucking poison, this drug is the most dangerous one we’ve ever faced on the reservations. It’s so easy to make and so incredibly addictive that it lends itself to serious abuse.”

  “I know that, and we are just now developing ways of combatting the use on the rez.”

  “Yeah, addiction is an issue, but you gotta know. A bigger problem issue is how methamphetamine is becoming a business venture. And it’s happening on reservations all over the country.”

  Sam decided to press to see if he would mention the influence of the cartels. “The addiction rate is bad enough, John. But I sure as hell don’t want my reservation to get involved in the business of making it, or God forbid, selling it. I can only imagine the players that would attract.”

  “Exactly. It’s happening now. To the big money guys, the reservations are easy pickings. They send a few of their ace dealers in to infiltrate the tribe. Then those assholes recruit the most susceptible tribe members and they’re off to the races.”

  “Fortunately, I’m not seeing that here. But help me out. What are the first signs of outsiders trying to do more than addict my people to their hideous, modern-day firewater?”

  John sighed aloud and hesitated as if he might say more. Sam was disappointed when he didn’t. She’d hoped that John would raise the issue of the cartels, but his advice was boilerplate.

  “A couple things. Pay attention to new people. Remember, Anglos can’t infiltrate reservations. No, the motherfuckers who are coming in to do business have Native cred up the ass. Fuck it, you could trace their lineage back to Sitting Bull. These new guys slink onto the rez almost unnoticed, they’re that accomplished. Once they’ve made their way in, they go after their foot soldiers. The susceptible ones.”

  “You mean young people, ones they want to addict?”

  “No, Samantha, remember these guys are growing an enterprise. They prefer that their disciples aren’t tweakers. No, they’re
looking for ambitious Indians, or better yet, angry ones. The best recruits are the haters. The ones that blame everyone but themselves for their horseshit lives.”

  Sam’s brain was buzzing with the information she was hearing. There was something so familiar in what John was saying that Sam cut him short. She needed time to think it through. Of course, John Thompson didn’t let her go until he’d reinforced his view of Jake.

  “Glad we could connect, Samantha. Any time you want to talk, I’m available. I wasn’t kidding. You were my star pupil. I want you to succeed and will help you any way I can. But I gotta tell you having Jake Justice in your wheelhouse is a gift from the gods. Listen to that man, Samantha. He knows more about law enforcement than the whole damn criminal justice faculty at any university in the country. Oh, and be sure to give him my best.”

  ****

  “Mark, what do you know about Bobby Mackey?”

  Mark Staples frowned and shrugged. “Not sure what you’re asking, Chief. Other than that he is a hell of a fighter. The guys didn’t choose him by accident to go up against Commander Justice in the demonstration last week. Even given how short a time he’s been on the rez, people know him and everybody seems to like him. Why do you ask? Did he do something wrong?”

  Sam shook her head. “Not necessarily. I’m curious. It’s just that every place I am he seems to pop up. I saw him the other day with some of Mingan’s gang. When I walked over to talk with them, they all stopped talking. It made me curious.”

  “Well, Chief, you have to know that Mingan is on the warpath. I’m not surprised that his asshole gang isn’t feeling especially friendly to you.” Henry’s solemn expression grew even more serious. “I think I know what you’re concerned about Chief. Since you told us about your conversation with your professor, I’ve been on the lookout for the kind of people he told you to watch for. And you’re right. In the short time he’s been here Mackey’s integrated himself into the fabric of the rez. He’s a smooth son of a bitch. He moves around quiet-like but always seems to be in the center of the conversation. Of course, my biggest concern is how attached he is to Mingan. I rarely see them apart.”